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The True King of Dahaar
Tara Pammi
Once he was Crown Prince, with a kingdom to rule…But when heartbreak drives him to recklessness Azeez nearly loses everything – including his life. Now he must make a choice: spend his life in the shadows of the past, or embrace his future as the true King of Dahaar.Behind every strong man…Dr Nikhat Zakhari left Azeez because she couldn’t give him what he needed to rule. But now the only man she’s ever loved needs her healing touch, and she is powerless to refuse him.Azeez knows he must assume the crown – but will this unforgettable woman agree to be his desert queen?Discover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/tarapammi
“Stop looking at me like that.” His low growl rumbled over the silent courtyard.
“How am I looking at you?” Nikhat said, tucking her feet beneath her legs.
Azeez leant his head back, giving her a perfect view of the strong column of his neck. Even dressed in the most casual clothes, he epitomized the supreme male arrogance and confidence that had always messed with her usually practical personality. And continued to do so, if she was ready to admit the truth.
“Like you cannot stop. Like you want to eat me up alive.”
The heat rising through her cheeks had nothing to do with the sun. “That’s not true.”
He leaned forward, his gaze thoughtful. “Yes, it is. There’s a temerity in your gaze now. You always knew your own mind, but now it’s like your body has caught up.”
She shrugged, holding herself tight and still under his scrutiny. The look Azeez cast in her direction was thorough. “I’m not a shy twenty-two-year-old anymore.”
“I can see that.” A lick of something came alive in his gaze. “I can almost see you staring down your patients into good health.”
Nikhat laughed, half to hide the little tremble that went through her. “I do have a reputation as the scary doctor. If only things could be fixed so simply. And you’re right. I can’t stop looking at you. I can’t stop wondering what in Allah’s name you think you’re doing to yourself.”
A DYNASTY OF SAND AND SCANDAL
A throne where secrets never sleep!
The Desert Kingdom of Dahaar has been beset by tragedy, scandal and secrets for as long as anyone can remember.
Those that reach for the crown are forced to pay a high price indeed. When duty calls, these royals must obey …
But these are children of the desert, and the fires of passion run hot in their veins.
And rarely does passion pair with duty.
Have you read the first title in this unstoppable miniseries by author Tara Pammi?
THE LAST PRINCE OF DAHAAR
This month read:
THE TRUE KING OF DAHAAR
The True King of Dahaar
Tara Pammi
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TARA PAMMI can’t remember a moment when she wasn’t lost in a book—especially a Mills & Boon
romance, which provided so much more excitement to a teenager than a mathematics textbook. It was only years later, while struggling with her two-hundred-page thesis in a basement lab, that Tara realised what she really wanted to do: write a romance novel. She already had the requirements—a wild imagination and a love for the written word.
Tara lives in Colorado with the most co-operative man on the planet and two daughters. Her husband and daughters are the only things that stand between Tara and a full-blown hermit life with only books for company.
Tara would love to hear from readers. She can be reached at tara.pammi@gmail.com (mailto:tara.pammi@gmail.com) or through her website: www.tarapammi.com (http://www.tarapammi.com)
For my sister and my friend—
you’re an inspiration to me, always.
Contents
Cover (#u6b8abc64-56e4-5db0-9c3e-9ddb930e5b42)
Excerpt (#u688916bc-a955-55ad-bfad-b6083fe83bef)
Introduction (#ucc80e5f7-ba9f-5611-8128-17adeff87396)
Title Page (#u85b04f32-ab2f-5883-a361-d4d7fb0b0ad8)
About the Author (#ube903c79-0621-5f07-b2a1-62c7db997241)
Dedication (#u3e695ee5-9eed-58ea-80e9-d8244665fe63)
Chapter One (#ua835c433-b580-5df3-8738-acc0d59b3a59)
Chapter Two (#uf41b8950-f64c-593e-8e54-ffa7d003eb87)
Chapter Three (#u43b93f4a-9e9d-538d-96a7-524de2bc2206)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_11c17541-78e0-575d-ba23-b4440292e48f)
DR. NIKHAT ZAKHARI followed the uniformed guard through the carpeted corridor of the Dahaaran palace, assaulted from every side by bittersweet memories. Eight years ago she had known every inch of these corridors and halls, every wall and arch. This palace, the royal family, they had all been part of a dream she had weaved as a naive girl of twenty-two.
Before it had come crumbling down upon her and shattered her.
She stepped over the threshold into the office and the guard closed the door behind her. The formal pumps she had chosen instead of her usual Crocs sank into the lush carpet with a sigh.
She had been in this office one night when the Crown Prince had been the man she had loved, the two of them slipping in like thieves in the night.
All because she had voiced a juvenile wish to see it. Her long-sleeved thick silk jacket couldn’t dispel the chill that settled on her skin at the memory.
Drawn to the huge portrait of the royal family behind the dark sandalwood desk, she gave in to nostalgia.
King Malik and Queen Fatima, Ayaan and Amira, each member of the royal family was smiling in the picture except Azeez. Because of what Nikhat had told him that day eight years ago.
A cavern of longing opened up inside of her. Even thousands of miles away, she had felt as if she had lost her own family when she heard of the attack. Her throat ached, her vision felt dizzy. She ran trembling fingers over Azeez’s face in the photo.
She leaned her head against the wall. Seeing this familiar place without him was shaking the very foundations of the life she had resolutely built for herself.
And she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—give that much power to a memory. Couldn’t let it undo everything she had accomplished.
“How have you been, Nikhat?”
She turned around and stared at the new Crown Prince, Ayaan bin Riyaaz Al-Sharif, the boy she had once tutored in chemistry. His copper-gold gaze shone with warmth. The cut of his features, so similar to Azeez’s, knocked the breath out of her.
She had gone into shock the day she had heard of the terrorist attack. To see Ayaan again, so many years later filled her with a joy she couldn’t contain. Nikhat reached him, and hugged him.
Something she wouldn’t have dared do eight years earlier.
A soft chuckle shook his lean frame. Stepping back, Nikhat fought the urge to apologize for her impulsive gesture. Her composure was shaken by being back here but not torn. A woman, and one not connected to the royal family in any way, would never have hugged the Crown Prince. But she was not the average Dahaaran woman anymore, bound by its traditions and customs. “It’s good to see you, Ayaan.”
He nodded, his gaze studying her with unhidden thoroughness. “You, too, Nikhat.”
He led her to the sitting area, where a silver tea service waited. Settling down opposite him, Nikhat shook her head when he inquired if she wanted something.
The Ayaan that she had known had always had a twinkle in his eyes, a core made of pure joy. The Crown Prince that looked at her now had the mantle of Dahaar weighing him down. There was grief in those eyes of his, a hardness that had found a permanent place in his features.
She had been back in the capital city of Dahaara hardly a day before she had been summoned to a private meeting by the Crown Prince. Not something she could have actually refused, even if she had wanted to. “How did you know I was back in Dahaara?” she said, getting straight to the point.
He shrugged and crossed his legs. Hesitation danced in his eyes before he said, “I have an offer for you.”
Nikhat frowned. After eight years with no word from her father, she had been beyond thrilled to hear his voice. But now… “You ordered my father to call me home,” she said, the unease she had felt the minute she had received his request solidifying. “You knew how eager I would be to see my family. That’s a low blow, Your Highness.”
Ayaan rubbed his brow, no hint of guilt in his steady gaze. “It’s the price I have to pay for that title, Nikhat.”
His words were simple, yet the weight of responsibility behind them struck Nikhat. Clamping down her anger, she remained seated. “Fine, you have me here now. I should warn you though. I’m not a genie to automatically grant your wish.”
A sudden smile split his mouth, warmth spilling into his eyes. And the flash of another face, smiling like that, similar yet different, rose in front of her eyes.
Her chest felt incredibly tight and she forced herself to breathe through it. There were going to be reminders of Azeez everywhere in Dahaar. And she refused to spiral into an emotional mess every time she came across one.
She had done that long enough when she had left eight years ago.
“I see that you have not changed at all. Which is good for me.”
“No riddles, Ayaan,” she said, forcing herself to address him as the young man she once knew.
“How would you like to spearhead a top-notch women’s clinic here in Dahaara? You’ll have complete authority on its administration. I’ll even get the Ministry to sign off on a health-care-worker training program, specifically for women. It is something I have had in mind and you are without a doubt the best candidate for it.”
Shock spiraling through her, Nikhat had no words.
All the longing she had held at bay for eight years, the loneliness that had churned through her, rose to the surface. It was what she had wanted when she had begged her father to let her study medicine, her one goal that had become her focus and anchor when everything else had fallen apart, the impossible dream that had pulled her back to Dahaar from a prestigious position in New York.
She had readied herself for an uphill battle against prejudices masquerading as traditions, and so much more. The sound of disbelief ringing through her must have escaped, because Ayaan clasped her hand.
“You can make a home here in Dahaara, Nikhat. Be near your family again,” Ayaan continued.
Nikhat nodded, eternally grateful for his understanding. Ayaan had always been the kinder of the two brothers. Whereas Azeez…there had never been any middle ground with him.
She returned his clasp, clinging to the high of his announcement. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Ayaan.”
A flicker of unease entered his gaze. “There’s something I require from you in exchange, however. A personal favor for the royal family.”
Nikhat shook her head. “I owe my profession to your father. Without King Malik’s aid and support, my father would’ve never let me finish high school, much less study medicine. I don’t need to be manipulated or offered incentives if you need something from me. All you have to do is ask.”
Ayaan nodded, but the wariness in his gaze didn’t recede. “This position, this is something I want you to have. It’s what my father wanted for you when he supported your education. But what I’m about to ask stretches the boundaries of gratitude.”
Nikhat nodded, trying to keep the anxiety his words caused from her face.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Azeez is alive, Nikhat.”
For a few seconds, the meaning of his words didn’t sink in.
It felt as if the world around her had slowed down, waiting for the buzzing in her ears to pass. The tightness in her chest morphed into a fist in her throat as she saw the truth in his eyes. A stormlike shiver swept through Nikhat and she fought to hold herself together, to fight the urge to flee the palace and never look back.
How many times was she going to flee?
She had worked so hard to realize her dream, had waited all these years to see her family again and she couldn’t let anyone stop her now. Not even the man she had once loved with every breath in her body.
Letting herself breathe through the panic in her head, she forced calm into her voice. “I haven’t heard a word about this.”
“Because no one other than a few trusted servants and my parents know. Until I can be sure that revealing that he’s alive doesn’t have a negative effect on Dahaar, I have to contain it.” His voice shook and Nikhat reached for his hand this time, even as she fought her own alarm.
